Arcadia

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Right, do we share the bathroom with . . . people?’ asked Jessica, closing the door of Room Two.

  ‘Room Two has a small ensuite, Room One has the big bathroom.’ Mr Holroyd flung open the door. ‘But of course, as I said, the hot tub awaits you young ladies. And then . . .’ He put a finger to his nose and grinned, moving back into the hallway and opening bevelled-glass double doors to reveal a small sitting room with a sofa for a cosy twosome, two armchairs and a small table next to a drinks trolley with decanter and glasses.

  ‘Nice,’ said Sally, noting the dust on the decanter.

  Facing the chairs, a cumbersome television set crouched, seemingly embarrassed by its antiquity.

  ‘Now, for breakfast . . .’ Mr Holroyd led them to the end of the hall where there was a tiny dining area, with a tea setting on the sideboard and a little table set for two. He pointed to a small hatch, sliding back the cover to reveal a dark hole.

  ‘The old dumb waiter! Your breakfast will come down in the morning. Do leave your selection sheet outside your doors. Now there are towels for the hot tub in your rooms. Shall I take the cover off for you?’

  ‘No! Thank you,’ the girls said in unison.

  ‘It’s been a long drive . . .’

  ‘Yes, terribly tired . . .’

  ‘Early start . . .’

  ‘Thank you for your help . . .’

  As Mr Holroyd stood beaming, drinking them in, it seemed, and making no move to leave, both girls darted to their respective rooms and hurriedly closed their doors. Jessica sat on her pink ruffled polyester bedspread, staring around her once she was able to wrench her eyes from the odd cast peopling the room. The towels, sheets and doilies were all rose-hued, and the walls were covered in pink-framed pictures of formal rose gardens. Bunches of rosebuds beside the bed were cloyingly fresh. She pulled down the blind, then listened at the door and slowly opened it before dashing across the hall into Sally’s room, where she burst into giggles.

  Sally had hung towels, clothes and anything she could find over the heads of the homemade toys. ‘Their eyes follow you,’ she declared. ‘And there’s no phone reception! I think we should leave. Look at the toilet . . . even the water is pink! I’m going to throw up with this smell. And I loved roses!’

  ‘What I want to know is, where’s Mrs Rose Garden?’ Jessica said in a whisper. ‘There’s a lot of dust about, so she’s been gone some time, I reckon.’

  ‘Jess . . . this place is really weird! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Thank goodness we had dinner before we came and don’t have to eat anything that was cooked here.’

  ‘I need a drink.’

  ‘Don’t touch that sherry in there!’

  ‘We have wine and nibbles from Salamanca. See, I told you’d they’d come in handy.’

  ‘Of course! Do you suppose the telly works?’

  ‘Yep. Probably only black and white though.’

  Wrapped in pink hand-knitted rugs, the girls watched an old French movie – filmed in black and white – glad they’d brought a bottle of good wine with them from Hobart.

  ‘Well, let’s get some sleep.’ Jessica turned off the TV when the movie finished and went to open the door to the hallway. She leapt back with a gasp.

  Mr Holroyd was standing there in striped pyjamas buttoned to his throat, the top tucked into matching bottoms, the cord tied in a bow high around his midriff.

  ‘Are you girls comfy? Anything you need?’ he asked, looking past them into the room. ‘So you watched a foreign film, eh?’ He raised an eyebrow, waiting for details.

  ‘We’re fine, thank you. Just heading to bed. G’night, Sal.’ Jess ran across the hall and closed her door firmly.

  Mr Holroyd squeezed through the doorway and Sally jumped into the hall. ‘I’ll just take these glasses. Or are you having a nightcap?’ he asked as he walked out.

  ‘No. Thanks.’ Sally fled back into her room.

  ‘See you at breakfast,’ he called.

  Behind their respective doors the girls waited, listening until they heard his shuffling footsteps retreating down the hallway. Jessica opened her door and ran into Sally’s room.

  ‘I can’t sleep with these creepy things watching me,’ Sally said. ‘Even with the towels on their heads.’

  ‘I have a better idea. Grab them.’ Jessica took two of the toys and marched into her room, where she flung them on the bed, then picked up her bag and went back to Sally’s room. ‘It’s a Disney horror story! I’m moving in. The creepy toys are moving out.’

  Together they piled all the toys on Jessica’s bed, closed the door, and Jess returned to Sally’s room.

  ‘Lock the door,’ whispered Sally.

  ‘There’s no lock!’

  ‘Push a chair against it,’ Sally said. ‘I so want to get out of here.’

  ‘He’s already got your credit card details, right?’

  ‘Yes. No need to see him in the morning.’

  ‘And we’re not doing breakfast. Get some sleep. We’re outta here at dawn.’

  *

  There was a heavy dew as they drove into the curtain of rising mist, the precursor to the sunrise. The lush green fields were damp and appeared cushion-soft.

  ‘What a place. Now we need to look for the sign and turn-off to Seawinds,’ said Sally, studying Petal’s map.

  ‘Do you suppose the old boy knows we’ve gone? Maybe he’s busy getting breakfast ready.’

  ‘No, we didn’t turn in our breakfast sheets. And he must’ve heard our car pull out, the way we skidded on the gravel.’

  ‘I couldn’t help it. I just wanted to get away from there,’ said Jessica.

  Sally looked at the mountains rising along one side of the road. ‘There’s such a lonely feeling out here,’ she said. ‘Nothing around but forests and those pine plantations. I hate it when they’re logged and the whole hillside is denuded. It looks like some awful wound.’ She sighed. ‘It never grows back to how it was.’

  ‘All the more reason not to whack into the old-growth forests,’ said Jessica.

  ‘I always feel small living here. I mean, even though we live on the crest of a rise, wherever you are in Tasmania you feel small. The mountains are always there . . . brooding,’ said Sally thoughtfully.

  ‘Yes, true. You can feel protected, like they’re watching over you. But you can also feel a bit intimidated; this is an island, so there’s no escape from them. We are separated from the mainland so we have to rely on ourselves, a bit like being shipwrecked. Fortunately this island has a lot more than a coconut palm going for it,’ said Jessica. ‘I always feel happier here when I’m facing the sea or a river.’

  ‘What? So you can swim for it?’ Sally laughed. ‘Ooh, look, there it is.’

  The sign was somewhat dilapidated, pointing towards the ground, and the letters spelling the name Seawinds were faded and peeling.

  ‘Do you suppose someone still lives there?’ wondered Sally.

  ‘Let’s find out. Invite ourselves in for breakfast.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s super early. We can check it out and if it’s deserted, well, we can find some coffee somewhere.’

  The narrow gravel road curled alongside thick eucalypt trees, but then as they passed the crest of the hill they saw below them lush green paddocks and, surprisingly close, the cliffs of the rocky coastline. Behind them rose the mountain range they’d driven down, and directly ahead was a rocky knoll surrounded by a thicket of old trees.

  ‘The house must be behind those tall trees,’ said Jessica. ‘And it looks like there’s somebody home, I can see some smoke.’

  ‘Yes, I wonder if they’re up, though. Why don’t we drive to the end of this road, see where it goes. That’ll fill in some time,’ suggested Sally.

  As they descended the mountain they came to a lake and both caught their breath. The water w
as inky dark, the pale early light gilding its unruffled silky surface, which mirrored the majestic mountains sheltering it. Seemingly impenetrable trees walled in the lake’s perimeter.

  ‘Photo op!’ they chorused together.

  ‘What is this gorgeous place?’ said Sally as Jessica posed them against the stunning backdrop for a selfie. ‘There’s no sign anywhere.’

  ‘It’s probably marked on Google Maps. Let’s keep going and see where we end up.’

  *

  Several kilometres on they came to a fork in the road. An old post-and-rail fence had a padlocked gate and a sign reading Private Property, while the public road veered to the right.

  ‘Oh. We’re locked out,’ said Sally.

  Jessica stopped the car in front of the gate. ‘That’s where we want to go. This is Seawinds. C’mon.’

  ‘The gate’s locked.’

  ‘So we walk.’

  ‘Hang on, Jess. There must be another entrance. Or else they don’t want visitors. We’ll be trespassing,’ said Sally.

  ‘This has to be an entrance to Seawinds, there’s nothing else down here. You saw the sign. Listen, we’re here. We can say we’re lost. And we sort of are a bit lost. It’s now or never, Sal.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s just take a bit of a peek. It’s too early to bang on the front door. Give it another hour. Get the lay of the land first.’

  They grabbed their shoulder bags and looked at the locked gate.

  ‘Just make sure it’s not electrified,’ said Sally.

  Jessica studied the fence for wires and checked the gate. ‘Nope. Easy enough to climb over.’ She swung herself onto the old-fashioned wooden gate and jumped down. ‘Piece of cake.’

  The sun was rising fast as they walked along the track, which wound its way down towards the shield of pine trees. Sally suddenly pointed. ‘What’s that through the trees over there? It’s not a house.’

  ‘It’s hard to tell. Let’s go a bit closer,’ said Jessica.

  They walked into the sunrise and saw the first rays glinting on the tin roof of a large shed. It looked to be quite old, and initially appeared abandoned. But then Jessica noticed the satellite dish on the roof, the security doors and some sophisticated-looking drainage pipes and equipment.

  ‘I’ve seen this kind of gear before. It’s very high tech,’ said Sally. ‘The new glasshouses and growing sheds use this computer-controlled temperature gauge to regulate carbon dioxide and humidity and stuff.’

  ‘Must have a few cars or trucks coming and going,’ said Jessica, pointing to a side road and large turning circle.

  ‘Everything is locked and bolted,’ said Sally as they got closer. ‘High security. What could they have in there that’s so valuable?’

  ‘Drugs?’ suggested Jessica.

  ‘You mean like a laboratory or a still or something? Maybe,’ said Sally. ‘There’s probably CCTV around here, let’s not go too close. We’re not that interested.’

  ‘Have you guys ever thought of growing your truffles like this?’ asked Jessica suddenly.

  ‘Nope. Truffles need nature; it’s a symbiotic relationship with the roots of trees. Now we can inoculate the host trees with the fungus and grow them in orchards, like fruit.’

  ‘Except your crop is underground.’

  ‘And we’d have trouble finding them if it wasn’t for Jasper! Even so it’s like a marriage or falling in love, Toby says. You can’t force it.’

  They edged around the shed, keeping their distance.

  ‘It seems like an old property. But the gear and a set-up like this are pretty modern. I wonder if any of the Broadbent family are still here,’ said Jessica.

  ‘We really haven’t thought about how to handle this,’ said Sally. ‘I mean, just rocking up and knocking on the door seems a bit, well, strange.’

  They could now see the back of the house, its gabled roof, casement windows and rust-red bricks, surrounded by dark shrubbery that gave it an olde-worlde air. A wisp of smoke rose from one of the chimneys. It seemed decades old, a home whose family had moved on, leaving perhaps one elderly resident or caretaker.

  ‘The coast is quite close, but with those cliffs there’s probably no beach, just rocks,’ said Sally.

  ‘Let’s do a circuit, see if we can get to the front of the house,’ said Jessica. ‘If we go through that stand of old trees, no one will see us.’

  ‘Just like the old days.’ Sally giggled. ‘Look, there’s a path,’ she added as they headed into the trees.

  ‘It goes back towards the hill, and I don’t fancy climbing. We could walk down along the coast over that way,’ said Jessica.

  ‘But this is such a worn track, it must be used a lot, so it has to lead somewhere,’ said Sally, walking further along the trail.

  In a few minutes she called back over her shoulder, ‘Jess, come see,’ and Jessica hurried to catch up with her. ‘Look, it must be an old mine tunnel or something,’ Sally said, pointing.

  They stopped and stared at the stone wall almost covered with creepers, and a doorway in the middle. The girls were dwarfed by the arched stone entranceway with its metal door, large handle and elaborate rusty old lock.

  ‘Wow, that’s one serious door. Why would the place be sealed off like this? It has to be abandoned now by the look of things.’

  ‘Wonder why it’s locked?’

  ‘Could be a council thing, for safety reasons,’ said Sally.

  Jessica tried the lock and, to their surprise, managed to open it.

  ‘Shall we have a look? I can use the torch on my phone,’ said Jessica, pulling the door.

  ‘Let’s not go too far inside . . .’ started Sally.

  Jessica peered in. ‘No, let’s go in one at a time. I’d hate that door to swing shut and lock us in there!’

  Sally waited as the thin beam of light from Jessica’s phone disappeared into the gloom. And then a minute or two later Jessica reappeared, heading back towards the entrance.

  ‘How far back does it go?’ Sally asked.

  ‘Quite a way. There are two smaller tunnels going off it. I didn’t want to get lost, it’s disorienting in there.’

  Sally stepped through the entrance, peering into the darkness. ‘What’s that smell? Wet earth or something?’ She sniffed.

  ‘Mushrooms. It’s a mushroom farm of some kind.’

  ‘Magic mushrooms?’

  ‘Who knows? There’re different sorts and shapes growing on the walls and on wooden posts. They’ve got quite an elaborate watering misting system in there. I couldn’t see that well. Are you going in?’

  ‘No, I’ll take your word –’ Sally stopped and they both turned, listening.

  ‘It’s a car. Shut the door, we don’t want to be up for trespassing.’

  Once the sound of the engine had faded, they walked back through the trees.

  ‘I wonder if that’s what they’re propagating in there,’ said Jessica, pointing to the occasional clump of fungi growing around the old tree trunks.

  ‘When we looked into growing truffles, we heard of a fellow growing mushrooms near us. He made quite a lot of money with them,’ said Sally as they made their way back up the hill. ‘Certainly more predictable than truffles.’

  ‘But you win the lottery if you produce truffles,’ said Jessica. ‘Do you ever worry about someone just walking in and stealing them?’ she asked.

  ‘That is a concern, but they’re hard enough to find even when we know where they are. They pop up where they want, really. That’s where Jasper comes in.’

  Jessica laughed then stopped still. ‘I hope whoever is driving out doesn’t see our car,’ she said. ‘Maybe they’ll go out the front entrance and head the other way. It’s past seven o’clock. Let’s go back to the car and wait till it’s a bit later. Then we can walk over to the house and see who we find there.’
<
br />   *

  The house looked bigger close up, but careworn, showing its age as they walked down the driveway.

  ‘You can hear the sea,’ Sally said, making her way up to the front verandah. ‘The upstairs rooms must have a great view.’

  Jessica rang the old-fashioned buzzer by the nameplate, Seawinds, next to the front door, and heard it echo through the house. They waited, exchanging a glance.

  ‘Guess they’ve gone out. It’s still early; just gone eight o’clock. They might not be up.’

  ‘No, wait, I hear footsteps.’ Jessica leaned close to the door. ‘Old person,’ she whispered.

  It was a slow shuffle, then they heard the lock turn and the door opened enough for an elderly woman, dressed in her bathrobe, to peer out at them.

  ‘You girls lost? What are you looking for?’

  ‘Hello, we were wondering if any of the Broadbent family are still here. I’m Sally Sandford, and this is my friend Jessica Foster.’

  ‘Why? Who wants to know?’ The woman frowned suspiciously.

  ‘I was Sally Adamson. I live at a property called Arcadia, down south near Burridge, and we believe a Mr Broadbent used to stay near there, years ago.’

  ‘Thomas William Broadbent,’ added Jessica.

  ‘What’d he do?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing at all, that we know of. So you knew of him? We just have some questions . . .’ said Sally. ‘Family search, you know.’

  ‘And we have some of his belongings,’ added Jessica.

  The woman pressed her lips into a thin line. ‘Nothing to do with us here.’

  ‘Could we come in?’ pressed Jessica, smiling. ‘We just have a few questions. We had a terrible night at a B&B and we sort of ran away early.’

  ‘We paid the bill, it was just that we were . . . uncomfortable,’ said Sally.

  ‘I don’t run no boarding house here.’

  ‘Oh, we understand that. We were just curious about Mr Broadbent. He left some things in a box on my property,’ said Sally.

  ‘What’s that to you? Why you sniffing round here? What you say your name was? What’s your family?’

  ‘My grandfather was Dr Stephen Holland.’